


You're Never Alone at Christmas

by shutupeccles



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-04 10:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/392597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompts supplied by <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_owensheart"><a href="http://owensheart.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://owensheart.livejournal.com/">owensheart</a></span>: Arthur surprises Merlin by bringing Hunith to Camelot to spend Christmas with him; and <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_rose_walker22"></span><a href="http://rose-walker22.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://rose-walker22.livejournal.com/">rose_walker22</a>: you’re never alone at Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Never Alone at Christmas

“A cart?” Merlin asked to clarify. Was Arthur determined to make him do every job in the kingdom at least once?  
   
Arthur nodded around a mouthful of cutlet then swallowed. “These arrangements have taken weeks and you’re the only person I trust to deliver this item safely.”  
   
Merlin did not let his ego wallow in the compliment. It was probably a ruse. Percival knew how to drive a cart and was built like a drawbridge. Arthur turned Merlin's observation against him by suggesting Percival teach him to drive.  
   
“Don’t be so pathetic, Merlin. It’s only one woman carrying one small bundle.”  
   
“You said I would be transporting a valuable item.” Merlin knew the compliment had been a trick.  
   
“And you will be. Most valuable—irreplaceable!”  
   
“Obviously, I’m both of those. But what about this item?” Merlin quipped.  
   
Arthur responded with a silent, mock laugh. “Get out.”  
   
*~~~*  
   
So Merlin found himself guiding the most placid horse in Camelot through sleet, along a little used road, to an inn he’d never heard of. Arthur was definitely up to something. To punish him for being ‘in the tavern’ those half dozen times he was in fact saving Arthur’s royal arse, most likely. Kings shouldn’t be permitted to have a twisted sense of humour. Luckily Gwaine had been here before and drew Merlin a surprisingly accurate map.  
   
If Arthur had thought to send him a day earlier Merlin could have continued on to Ealdor, spent an hour or two with his mother, and collected this treasure on the way back. He grumbled against his cold hands after tethering horse and cart to the hitching post. He wouldn’t be staying long. Merlin passed a small square of parchment bearing Arthur’s seal to the innkeeper. Then he sat in the common room, soaking up what little warmth made it through the regular customers clustered around the single fireplace and only making his wet clothing more uncomfortable. He disguised a drying spell as a mild cough and his temper improved accordingly.  
   
A figure approached him, holding out two papers with Arthur’s signature for identification, so he had to assume there was a woman under the many layers of clothing. Her face was covered with a thin cloth and she did not speak, responding with gestures when Merlin asked if she was comfortable in the cart and tried breaking the monotony of the journey with small talk. He stopped chattering and enjoyed the comparative silence. The only sound apart from horse’s hooves and jostling car came from a flask the woman frequently sipped at. The scent of the liquid it contained was familiar—medication for a winter contagion that robbed those afflicted of their voice and made their eyes sensitive to light.  
   
“You shouldn’t be travelling.” Her gestures strongly disagreed with Merlin's opinion. “At least there’s no snow to glare through your veil.”  
   
The woman nodded and placed her hand on his knee in a familiar, affectionate gesture. Merlin covered her hand and uttered words of healing.  
   
“Now you can stop drinking that awful stuff, but you should rest your voice and eyes a while longer.”  
   
She nodded again and Merlin put his arm around her. The irreplaceable treasure Arthur sent Merlin to collect was not an object but Merlin's mother, Hunith.  
   
*~~~*  
   
The pomp of Christmas lost its joy for Arthur when Morgana was taken away by Morgause. It returned when she did, only to perish with her public announcement that she was Uther’s daughter.  
   
He sat alone in his chamber with his feet propped on a stool by the fire, and let the dancing flames stir memories from dark to delightful. Letters he’d secretly written to Morgana seeking explanations and making overtures for peace sat in a heap on his lap. He didn’t know where to send them. Every so often he’d toss one into the fire and watch it burn along with his hopes of reconciliation. They’d been friendly enough growing up, considering, and she was his sister. If Morgana had come to him with the truth… Arthur didn’t care about such details right now. Christmas was a time for family and forgiveness. He wanted Morgana to come home.  
   
Hopefully Hunith had recovered before beginning her journey. Bringing her to Camelot to spend Christmas with her son was the only way he could properly reward Merlin for years of steadfast loyalty. And show thanks for his irreverent humour, for that matter. George was an efficient fellow, yet terribly dull. As annoying as Merlin was, there was no denying his presence shone a light on things that would otherwise remain unseen.  
   
The soles of Arthur’s boots became uncomfortably hot so he lowered his feet to the stone floor. A page knocked at his door to announce that the court was assembled. With great reluctance, Arthur fastened the ceremonial cloak over his shoulders and plonked the crown on his head. Time to play King and provide hope for happier times ahead, he only wished he believed his own speech.  
   
*~~~*  
   
Merlin's joy at having his mother in Camelot warmed every room he entered, spreading Christmas Spirit like a plague. He noticed only Arthur seemed immune, his smiles becoming less sincere as the feast day approached. Merlin shared his concern with Hunith.  
   
“Carry on with your duties and let me take care of that,” Hunith assured him.  
   
“Um—Arthur’s King of Camelot, not Mr Gosling goose-herder,” Merlin replied doubtfully.  
   
“A King can hardly be as difficult to tame as a DragonLord,” Hunith countered calmly.  
   
Gaius chuckled and almost choked on one of the dried grapes in his porridge. Merlin looked at him sternly.  
   
*~~~*  
   
Hunith brought Arthur breakfast on Christmas morning. Arthur hastily pulled his bedclothes up to his neck, baring his feet to chill morning air in the rush to protect his modesty.  
   
“Is Merlin ill?” he asked to cover his surprise as Hunith opened the curtains.  
   
She swung a window open to sweeten the air then swiftly bolted it closed again as she replied. Merlin's inefficiency didn’t come from the maternal line, it seemed. “Merlin's looking after Gaius. My healing skills are basic in comparison, but I hope to be of some use by taking over Merlin's duties. Not all of them, of course. I trust the King of Camelot can dress himself without a woman’s assistance, just as well as any goose-herder?”  
   
Arthur clasped the covers tighter around his neck. “Yes, thank you Hunith.” Merlin's humour came from his mother, though. “No need to muck out my stables…” He couldn’t have Hunith doing that.  
   
“I spent my whole life in a farming village,” she reminded him without being condescending.  
   
“Oh…yes. But it’s Christmas…”  
   
“The horses don’t know that.” Hunith’s eyes crinkled and her cheeks dimpled with amusement at his ignorance, the way Merlin's often did. Arthur might have thought twice about inviting her here if he’d known mother and son would be so similar. “I know I have no place asking favours of you after you went to so much trouble bringing me here, Arthur, but if you could drop by Gaius’ room sometime today between official duties, before luncheon perhaps? He is an old but loyal servant. A concerned enquiry could go a long way to restoring his health.”  
   
“Of course.” Arthur respected Gaius and Hunith, but not as much as he wanted her to leave. At least until he had some clothes on. Did she have to pick up his dirty laundry?  
   
“Honestly Arthur, you’re as bad as Merlin for creating needless clutter. Two sides of a coin,” Hunith muttered with a surprisingly affectionate smile before wishing Arthur a joyous Yule and leaving him in peace.  
   
Hunith had called him ‘Arthur’ twice, as though he were a familiar neighbour from Ealdor, yet he found it impossible to demand she address him as ‘Your Majesty’. Hunith probably had Merlin's knack for turning titles into insults, anyway.  
   
*~~~*  
   
Arthur descended and ascended the various sets of stairs between throne room and physician’s quarters. The morning had been spent renewing a tradition of the ancient Kings, where the nobility distributed bundles of cloth and parcels of food to the poorest families in the kingdom. The ceremony was spiritually rewarding, but it didn’t half drag on. Next year he’d have to provide entertainment at one side of the hall—for the children of course. No clowns, though. Forget sorcery, scheming clowns were the true scourge of Camelot.  
   
Because he possessed finer manners than Merlin, Arthur knocked and waited for permission to enter the physician’s quarters. His father had declared Gaius a free man and this was his home. Hunith ushered Arthur in—the table was already set for their midday meal and he began to beg their pardon for interrupting. Hunith insisted he join them, a place was set for a fourth beside Merlin. Arthur protested politely. Gaius explained that in Ealdor it was a grave insult to refuse a woman’s hospitality on feast days, so Arthur sat.  
   
“Has Hunith been planning this since her arrival?” he murmured to Merlin.  
   
“Probably before that,” Merlin admitted freely.  
   
“Hunith considered you a friend after your efforts to save Ealdor. Inviting her to Camelot for Yule made you family,” Gaius said.  
   
“I never thought I’d have a cabbage-head for a brother,” Merlin teased gleefully and his mother withdrew the offered bowl of mashed…some kind of vegetable.  
   
“Arthur may be our friend Merlin, but he is still your King.”  
   
Merlin apologised with a petulant grimace and was thankful that Arthur didn’t laugh.  
   
“Women are strange,” Arthur observed in a placating whisper.  
   
“You won’t hear an argument from me,” Gaius muttered through a corner of his mouth as he raised a spoon to his lips.  
   
Merlin and Arthur turned to each other and laughed. Hunith’s furrowed brow could not disguise her pleasure. Merlin felt at least partially responsible for King Uther’s death and Lady Morgana’s treachery. Arthur had gone to a lot of effort to bring Hunith’s family together. The least she could do was make him feel part of it.  
   
The four held hands around the table as Gaius said the traditional blessing over the food. Merlin and Arthur subtly squeezed each other’s fingers in mutual thanks. Hunith saw and her thoughts became a prayer of gratitude.  



End file.
